


you can't raise hell with a saint

by thatsparrow



Series: beau week 2019 [5]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Missing Scene, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 16:24:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18608200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsparrow/pseuds/thatsparrow
Summary: After, Keg offers her a cigarette."I hear they're not very good for you," Keg says while she rolls the paper, practiced. "Supposed to fuck up your lungs or something." Strikes the flint, sparks a flame to light the end. "I guess that's not very romantic."--written for day five of beau week: lesbian pride & visibility day





	you can't raise hell with a saint

**Author's Note:**

> had such a hard time deciding what to write for today and eventually settled on some short beau/keg
> 
> title (as always) from "raise hell" by dorothy

After, Keg offers her a cigarette.

"I hear they're not very good for you," Keg says while she rolls the paper, practiced. "Supposed to fuck up your lungs or something." Strikes the flint, sparks a flame to light the end. "I guess that's not very romantic."

"That's alright," Beau says, leaning back against the blanket. "I'm not much of a romantic either."

Keg exhales, slow. A ribbon of stone-grey smoke winds up to the ceiling, looking like the shadow of some far-off signal fire. _We're here_. "I could see it for you, though—the whole knight-in-shining-armor deal. Rescuing damsels, white horse, all that shit."

"Damsels?"

"Some kind of villain, too. Someone dastardly. _Dastardly_ —isn't that a great fucking word?"

Beau reaches out a hand for the cigarette, pinches her fingers closed when she feels Keg pass her the rolled paper. Closes her eyes and sees Lorenzo's glaive coming down, twisting into the cavity of Molly's chest. "I think I've had more than enough of villains."

"Oh, _fuck_ —Beau, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"I know. It's okay."

Beau feels Keg go still beside her, locked up like Beau is made of paper-thin glass and with any word or movement she might shatter. She feels more like stone, herself; it'd take something with a bladed edge to carve any expression into her. Keg is close enough that she can lean over and press her mouth against the freckles at Keg's shoulder, the divot above her collarbone. "Look, it's fine. What—you think you're the only one who's ever accidentally said something shitty? It happens. You didn't mean it like that." She thinks of Keg pushed down to her knees with Lorenzo's hand on her shoulder. That should've been her—would've been, too, if Keg hadn't volunteered for the fire instead. More of a knight than Beau could ever be; her armor bloodstained and battle-scarred but better for it. "What do you think you'll do now?" Beau passes the cigarette back, the taste of smoke lingering on her teeth.

"I don't know. Travel, I guess? Try not to fuck anything up too bad?" Keg inhales deep, running the ember further down the paper. "The world's my oyster, or whatever."

"That's the spirit."

Keg smiles. "What about you? Heading south?"

"At least as far as Zadash. I don't think there's much of a target after, though. That's usually farther ahead than we plan."

"Fifteen minutes is usually farther ahead than you all plan."

Beau laughs. "Yeah. Fair."

By now, the cigarette is nearly burned down to Keg's fingertips, nails turned orange from the glow. Whether it's dried blood or dirt caked in around the beds, Beau can't tell.

"We should probably—" she breaks off, tilting her head in the rough direction of the dome. Keg nods, passing Beau her breeches and boots before she pulls on her own. Even now, they both know Keg won't be around in the morning, but it's nice to pretend otherwise, to briefly imagine a kinder world where they're each carrying a little less weight from the past. Nice to pretend that they can have more than this one moment, something more purposeful than a blanket spread out on the keep's stonework floor. Nice to pretend, but Beau knows better than to play out these games of _what if_ for too long.

Before they get up, Beau reaches over to rest a hand on the back of Keg's neck, pulls her in for a kiss. As much of a _goodbye_ as either of them is willing to admit.


End file.
